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Opinionated women write fine romance: meet Dee S. Knight

Please welcome Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Dee S. Knight!

Hello!

We write romances. I’m sure in your books, as in mine, I’d love to have these lessons posted in my heroine’s house somewhere.

I received this list in my inbox years ago and just found them again this afternoon. The list is credited to the Anthony Robbins organization. I don’t know if it’s really from Anthony Robbins, but I do know they’re all good lessons to apply to life.

I was exhorted to forward this to five people or I’d be in trouble. I figure by posting it here I’m doing better than that. =)

The lessons are first. My somewhat snarky responses are in brackets. Maybe these will rub off on a future heroine of mine!

ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully. [This does not apply to kicks in the butt or bubble gum in their hair. Only nice things. Keep that in mind!]

 TWO. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other. [As a veteran of over 47 years of marriage, I can vouch for this one. Love isn’t about that initial flutterby in the tummy, it’s about being happy you’re waking up to the same person for the rest of your life. Think about how long you want that to be…]

THREE. Don’t believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want. [Maxine has another saying that should be tacked onto this: Don’t believe all you think!]

FOUR. When you say, “I love you,” mean it. [When Jack and I were together awhile, he commented on my facile use of the word love. I used to say, “I love that song…dress…car…class…” You get the drift. He impressed on me then that the word “love” is special and should only be used with care. Say what you mean, mean what you say.]

FIVE. When you say, “I’m sorry,” look the person in the eye. [My mom taught me this long ago, and God! Is it ever hard.]

 SIX. Be engaged at least six months before you get married. [Well, here Tony and I part ways. If Jack and I had been engaged 6 months instead of 9 days, we wouldn’t have gotten married. But generally I’d agree this is good.]

SEVEN. Believe in love at first sight. [Yes! But don’t necessarily act on it.]

EIGHT. Never laugh at anyone’s dream. People who don’t have dreams don’t have much. [I like this one a lot.]

NINE. Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it’s the only way to live life completely. [I have a friend whose motto is Live! Laugh! Love! And she truly lives those words. How much better can it get?]

TEN. In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling. [Well, yeah, okay.]

ELEVEN. Don’t judge people by their relatives. {Lord, no!! At least that’s what my relatives say, lol.]

TWELVE. Talk slowly but think quickly. [Hard for a Virginia girl to think fast.]

THIRTEEN. When someone asks you a question you don’t want to answer, smile and ask, “Why do you want to know?” [As if this would work with any woman I know. Maybe with a man…]

FOURTEEN. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk. [I can’t help it, this sounds like I should be cracking open that fortune cookie.]

FIFTEEN. Say “God bless you” when you hear someone sneeze. [Learned it as a child, and still do it, whether I know the person or not, and whether we’re across a restaurant or not.]

SIXTEEN. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson. [Wow, sounds like a coach. Oh, wait, Anthony Robbins is a coach. Play ball!]

SEVENTEEN. Remember the three R’s: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions. [Love this. Wish it hung in every classroom, but I’m sure in this day and age it it would offend someone somewhere along the way.]

EIGHTEEN. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship. [It’s sad when this happens. I don’t make a huge number of friends, so I’d like to keep the ones I have.]

NINETEEN. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it. [Not before you spend a little time alone with a quart of Haagen Daz, though.]

TWENTY. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice. [Great, just the tone I want to set for that spunky telemarketer.]

TWENTY-ONE. Spend some time alone. [Fortunately, I’m one of those people who enjoys having conversations with that witty and wise person, Dee S. Knight. There are enough times when no one else does…]

Thanks for bearing with me through these rules to live by! I’m sure I’d be nominated for sainthood if I’d managed to do all of these through my life. Needless to say, you won’t be seeing a Saint Dee any time in the future! That’s okay. I’d rather write fun erotic romance than be a saint, anyway. Lately, I’ve updated and republished my paranormal erotic romance, Passionate Destiny!

Blurb:

Dr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women’s studies at a small New Jersey college, is a woman who confidently knows who she is and what she expects of life. Until she loses her teaching position and her well-ordered life gets turned upside down. Then, in a subtle stroke of whimsy, fate tosses her a gift in an historic home and property in Virginia.

Harboring visions of Gone With the Wind, she determines to use River Peace as a temporary reprieve from her troubles. Images of Tara quickly evaporate when she arrives to discover the reality of her inheritance, however.

River Peace has history, grace and style going for it. After only one night, Margaret discovers that it also has a ghost. She’s visited by a male spirit from the time of the War Between the States, who knows how to make a woman feel special. And very loved.

Aaron Belton meets Margaret when she first arrives in Virginia. He’s renowned for historic renovations on a multitude of properties, but he’s got a special place in his heart for River Peace. He and his family believe the property always should have belonged to them. In fact, Aaron will do almost anything to make that happen. When his passion for the house changes to a passion for the house’s owner, Aaron’s as surprised as anyone. Can he gain both, the woman and the house? To do so, he’ll have to face a spectral being.

And his own destiny.

Amazon KU Buy link: https://tinyurl.com/sxy5sfh

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Excerpt:

She sipped her tea. “Have you ever heard that old poem about the guy in the house who feels something when he goes upstairs? I can’t even remember exactly how it goes.”

He nodded. “I think you mean Antigonish. It’s by Hughes Mearn. ‘As I was going up the stair. I met a man who wasn’t there! He wasn’t there again today! I wish, I wish, he’d stay away.’ Is that the one you mean?” His inflection was perfectly neutral, as was his expression.

Margaret laughed, shaking a little as she laced her fingers around the cup, holding it to warm her hands. “Yes, that’s the one. Is there any topic you don’t know something about?” She sipped, then took a deep breath. “Well, Doctor Belton, you’re going to think I’m over the edge, but that is what’s with the house.” She looked him full in the face.

His expression didn’t change. Not even a hint of smile played across his face. Margaret examined his eyes for…for what? Doubt or belief?

“You mean you’ve seen something.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, I have.”

“Tell me about it.” Still no hint of humor colored his tone. He was treating her as an adult, which is more than she felt.

“I feel so stupid talking about this.” He reached out to take her cup and put it on the table before folding her hands in his.

“I’m not laughing. Tell me.”

Another deep breath. “The first night I was here I smelled pipe tobacco when I went upstairs. I was on the landing, and it was so strong I went back down and checked all the doors. It was gone by the time I got back, so I brushed it off. Then I saw a man where you were standing this morning. At the foot of the steps. He started up, watching me. And again this evening, it was he walking across the lawn toward me, not you.”

There was no need to tell him about the dreams. No need to admit to having made love to this ghost, or whatever it was. He would think she was crazy enough with what she had told him.

“What did he look like?” He tilted his head, looking at her with eyes that sparked with curiosity.

“You believe me?” Incredulous, she squeaked the question. He believed her! His acceptance of her story amazed her, considering she barely believed herself.

“I don’t disbelieve you. And it’s obvious that you think something is going on here. So, tell me.” His thumbs smoothed across her knuckles, an action she found calming.

Relaxing slightly, she answered him. “He looks old fashioned. Not as tall as you are, light blond hair. A beard that badly needs trimming. On the stairs he had on a gray overcoat, like a uniform and he carried a gun.”

“Gun?” Aaron’s voice was sharp, and his brows furrowed in concentration. “What kind of gun? A rifle or shotgun?”

“How would I know? A gun, that’s all. This evening he had that same coat and a hat. His eyes are exactly like yours.” She stopped to examine Aaron’s eyes. “That same dark, intense blue. It’s the only thing similar between you, except…” She felt herself blush and she looked away from Aaron.

“Except what,” he prodded.

“Except for the way you looked at me tonight on the porch. Before you kissed me. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s looked at me just that way. As though he loved me.” Now she met his steadfast gaze, waiting for his response.

Dee S. Knight
Available now, Book 2 of the Good Man series, One Woman Only
An Awareness of Evil in Mystic Desire
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My Love Affair With Haunted Houses

Welcome Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Robert Herold!

(Author of The Eidola Project)

Haunted Houses and I go way back. I used to set up a haunted house display in my parent’s garage and enlist my brothers and friends to play the roles of various monsters as I, as a mad scientist, led other neighborhood kids through the chamber of horrors. The tour would end with me dissecting a monster in a serio-comic way, removing all manner of things from its abdomen (such as a pop bottle, an old shoe, and a dirty sock). At the conclusion, the creature’s arm would swing out at the other kids, courtesy of a little fishing line, and send the frightened kids running from the haunted garage.

After college, I took a job in a nursing home as I dipped my claws, er, toes, into the writing life. At the nursing home I reprised my earlier passion for haunted houses and got other members of the staff and the management to buy into the idea of putting on a haunted house for the patients. People were encouraged to retrieve a treat from the bottom of a bowl of intestines (OK, it was pasta). There were opportunities for (geriatric) boys to meet ghouls, and gals to hang out with all sorts of unsavory monsters. The conclusion, once again, was me as a mad scientist werewolf (showing my true colors) who would operate on a monster and once again pull out various things from its abdomen (this time it included a bedpan – I’m such a wit). Since I was an adult, I also jazzed it up childhood shtick with beakers of dry ice and colored liquid bubbling away behind me on repurposed bookshelves. The pièce de résistance was me (as the ersatz wolfman/mad scientist) throwing the breaker switch (OK, it was a sponge mop handle) and causing the creature’s eyes to light up. At this point, the creature’s arm would swing out, as before (remember the fishing line trick?) and grab one of the patients.  As I look back on my cavalier sensibilities, I realized I was damn lucky I didn’t cause a heart attack.

When my older son was in kindergarten and first grade I resurrected the haunted house motif, this time for my son’s birthday parties. I used all the same ideas to great success, perhaps too great. After causing one little girl to pee her pants, I realized I had ridden this horror express perhaps a little too far. My forays into this live on only in the nightmares of former kids, now adults.

The haunted house that left the biggest impression on me was as a high school student when I participated in a spooktacular haunted house that was put on by a local rock music station. I helped with the construction, mostly as a gofer, and got to be a werewolf (oh, the joy) once the place opened. This haunted house was not for kids, and had many a frightful room as we repurposed an old home before it was to be torn down. I, as the wolfman, was in a room with Dr. Frankenstein and the monster, and we’d all jump at folks and delight in their screams. Then, toward the end of the evening, in a moment of werewolf abandon, I decided to jump up onto the wall and grab the bars on a window. Much to my chagrin, and pain, the iron bars were actually wooden dowels that broke off and I crashed down onto my werewolf tailbone. I howled in pain. People loved it! I, however, too embarrassed to admit my pain and mistake, limped the three miles home that night instead of begging a ride from someone with wheels. My lesson: One must suffer for one’s art!

Blurb:

It’s 1885 and a drunk and rage-filled Nigel Pickford breaks up a phony medium’s séance. A strange twist of fate soon finds him part of a team investigating the afterlife.

The Eidola Project is an intrepid group of explorers dedicated to bringing the light of science to that which has been feared, misunderstood, and often manipulated by charlatans. They are a psychology professor, his assistant, an African-American physicist, a sideshow medium, and now a derelict, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses.

Called to the brooding Hutchinson Estate to investigate rumored hauntings, they encounter deadly supernatural forces and a young woman driven to the brink of madness.

Will any of them survive?

Excerpt:

Sarah retrieved the lamp and twisted the peg. The outhouse door swung open on its own, and she gasped.

“Momma?” Sarah asked as she held out her lantern. No. A ruined version of Molly stood in the doorway.

Before her disappearance, people often commented on the sixteen-year-old’s beauty, but in the last twenty-eight days birds pecked out her pretty blue eyes, and maggots now swam in the sockets. Molly’s head hung to the left at an odd angle. Her skin looked mottled with patches of gray, blue, and black. A beetle crawled out of Molly’s half-opened mouth and darted back in.

Sarah’s heart leaped to her throat, and she jumped back. She lost her footing, fell onto the outhouse seat, and dropped the lantern to the floor. She bent to retrieve it; thankful the glass globe did not break. Sarah looked up and saw an empty doorway.

Impossible, she told herself. Must’ve dozed off, had a nightmare, and woke up when I dropped the lamp. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and Sarah took a deep breath to calm herself.

Holding the lamp before her once more, she crept out…

Author Bio:

The supernatural always had the allure of forbidden fruit, ever since Robert Herold’s mother refused to allow him, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved in. (Well, not literally.)

As a child, fresh snow provided him the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors’ lawns halfway and then make paw prints with his fingers as far as he could stretch. He would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on their front lawn. (They were skeptical.)

He has pursued many interests over the years (among them being a history teacher and a musician), but the supernatural always called to him. You could say he was haunted. Finally, following the siren’s call, he wrote The Eidola Project, based on a germ of an idea he had as a teenager.

Ultimately, he hopes the book gives you the creeps, and he means that in the best way possible.

 

Contact Links (list as many as you’d like):

Website:  https://robertheroldauthor.com/

Blog:

Email:  email@robertheroldauthor.com

Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/RobertHeroldauthor/

Twitter:   https://twitter.com/RobertHerold666

Goodreads:   https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48422164-the-eidola-project

BookBub:   https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-eidola-project-by-robert-herold

YouTube:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZovJ-MZQ5Y   (17 second animated book trailer!)

Instagram:   https://www.instagram.com/robertheroldauthor/

Pintrest:   https://www.pinterest.com/roberttherold/

LinkedIn:   https://www.linkedin.com/in/robert-herold-6675757/

Amazon Author Page:   https://www.amazon.com/Robert-Herold/e/B07YW82TLR

 

Links for Purchase (use as many as you’d like):

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Eidola-Project-Novel-ebook/dp/B07YRB4F99/ref=sr_1_1

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-eidola-project-robert-herold/1133990920

Kobo:   https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-eidola-project

Apple iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-eidola-project/id1482589362

Chapters:  https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/the-eidola-project/9781509224074-item.html

Google Books: https://books.google.com/books/about/The_Eidola_Project.htm

 

More about me:

I wanted to be a werewolf as a child, so writing is letting me live out my childhood fantasies! I live in Seattle and have been a middle school history teacher for many years. I also play in local band called Bluetopia. My wife works with homeless women. Our two grown sons live in Portlandia. We have a chihuahua, named Jangles, we inherited from my sister when she passed away. He watches the television with us and barks at any image of an animal or animated creature (including the Mucinex monster)!

I’ve always been fascinated with the horror genre. In addition to wanting to be a werewolf, subscribing to monster magazines, and building all the Universal Monsters models, as a boy I used to construct a haunted house in my family’s garage and invite the other kids in for a scare!

I just received the contract for the second book in the Eidola Project series, currently at the editor, a sequel involving a werewolf (I know, go figure!) called, Moonlight Becomes You. I am also halfway through writing book three, where the team travels cross-country (a big deal in 1885) to solve a series of murders by a deadly shapeshifting creature plaguing the coastal Native Americans in the Washington Territory. It’s entitled Totem of Terror.

Interesting part of the story to research:

I found researching William James’s actual forays into paranormal investigations fascinating. A great resource is The Ghost Hunters—William James and the Search for Scientific Proof of Life After Death, by Deborah Blum

What inspired the title of the book:

The book is about a team of 19th Century ghosthunters who become ensnared in a deadly investigation of a haunted house. Eidola is a Greek word for ghost, so I thought it fit perfectly.

 Advice for aspiring writers:

Come up with an ending first. It will provide direction and keep you from getting lost half-way. Also, pack the inner critic away in a lock box until you’re done with the rough draft. Having a sense of the whole, however rough, rightly gives you a sense of accomplishment. When editing, only let the critic out for short periods and only if it behaves itself. Work hard to polish your writing, but don’t let it cause you sink into despair or abandon your work. If I can do it, anyone can!

What I do for fun, besides writing:

Reading, watching movies and TV, taking long walks, eating ethnic, going to the theater & concerts, listening and playing music—especially jazz and classical (I play the sax and flute and I’m in a band).

 My favorite quote:

“If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” G. K. Chesterton, author of the Father Brown mysteries

Awards for The Eidola Project:

  • Currently a semi-finalist in the Chanticleer International Book Awards—Paranormal Category
  • 2nd Place in The Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewer’s Choice Awards
  • 3rd Place in The Grand Opening Awards

Tasarla Romaney’s new fantasy series has monsters, giants, evil… and love

Welcome to Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Tasarla Romaney!! Tell us about your new fantasy series!

I’m so excited to be here and share the first books in my fantasy series. This series has a quest, monsters, evil villains (that feeds her family members to giants), several love stories interwine. But why I loved writing this series is because it’s a true story of love conquers all (but that isn’t fully revealed until the last book which will be out in August).  But in the meantime, you can enjoy The Hollow King and The Warrior Queen.

Thought by most to be a simple child’s chant…

A king of no kingdom

Who walks among the living yet is void of all but breathe

He will be known as the Hollow King and will yield the Spector.

The Warrior Queen with compassion will fuel the Hope

The one who walks on two legs but has the soul of an animal will guide the Spector’s magic.

Together they will use the Spector of Hope to rid the land of evil.

Until creatures most thought to be make-believe start to hunt at night… Freed by Ovezara, a sorceresses of what seems to be unlimited power.

Queen Taraly dying father’s command is to visit Grandmother June and learn what must be done to stop them.

King Crenshaw has lost his kingdom to the Ovezara and vows to have revenge.

Sancha returns from a hunting trip to find his father’s body torn to shreds by an evil so dark people refuse to acknowledge it.

The three unite to find the fabled Spector of Hope.  As their quest starts to unfold, they realize that the line between good and evil is often blurred. What they believed to be good is twisted. Can they locate the Spector of Hope in time to restore good and save all from the evil Ovezara unleashes?

Buy links:

e-book: https://books2read.com/u/49PzX0

Kindle Unlimited: https://www.amazon.com/Hollow-King-Night-Gryphon-Book-ebook/dp/B07CJ733PH/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1587329177&sr=8-1 

The Warrior Queen: https://www.amazon.com/Warrior-Queen-Night-Gryphon-Book-ebook/dp/B07CJ6GVWP/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Tasarla+Romaney+The+Warrior+Queen&qid=1587346853&sr=8-1

The balance between good and evil has been destroyed. The monsters from childhood nightmares roam freely. The very fabric holding the world together has begun to unravel. The Hollow King has been determined now it’s time for the Warrior Queen to be named on the quest for the Spector of Hope.

Finally, the Warrior Queen yields the Specter of Hope. Will she blanket all of humankind in darkness destroying the world of magic? Or free the humans of creatures from nightmares and restore the world of magic to its splendor? She must see through trickery, trust in what she fears the most, and rely on those closest to her to succeed. Crenshaw, Taraly, Sancha, Jalie, and Taigo continue their quest through the land of the dead, the barren salt plains, fight endless battles for what they believe in. Only have they placed their belief in the correct Warrior Queen?

About Tasarla:

I live in Northern Michigan (where it is cold ALL the time) with my hubby of many years. Some of my favorite past times when I’m not writing include reading (any genre), taking pictures (that I use on Facebook, my blog, Instagram, twitter and the journals I make), crocheting blankets for the Linus Project.  I’m addicted to M&M’s, planners, tarot cards, and lattes.

Ghosts and other nightly bumps

Have you ever had ghostly interactions? Ever heard unworldly noises like the sounds of mysterious footsteps in a hallway where no one walked, or someone calling your name or interior doors slamming where there was no breeze? I’ve often said I am the least intuitive person I’ve ever known, yet even I have had a kind of mini-event. My husband was in town buying things for a trip he was leaving for the next day. I was at home in our closet, getting things out and ready for him to pack. I very clearly heard the front door open and him call my name. Clear. As. A. Bell. I called out, “I’m in the bedroom!” When he didn’t say anything back or come in, I went to investigate. There was no one there. The door was locked and no one had come in. A year later, while he was living/working in Kansas City and I was still in Virginia, I woke one morning to the aroma of his after shave. He’d been gone for weeks—the sheets had
most definitely been washed. The scent lingered. I was so taken with it that I immediately called him to be sure everything was okay.

These small things are nothing compared to other stories I’ve heard. My mother-in-law said that her father-in-law appeared at the foot of her bed to say that goodbye and that he “loved the boys.” Later that morning they received the message that he had passed during the night. My mom has often heard her aunt saying her name. They were very close so she always takes comfort in it. When she and my aunt shared a place in Dallas, she used to smell pipe tobacco and hear a child laugh. Sometimes at night the lamp beside her chair would go on and off, on and off. She told me that she would say, “Stop that now,” and after a few childish titters the activity stopped. My best friend was driving down a street in the right lane. A car was on her left. As they approached an intersection, she plainly heard a voice say, “Look left!” She stopped immediately. The car to her left did not and was T-boned in the intersection. She told me that she has heard that voice give advice like that several times over the years, and she’s usually saved from something bad.

So…I believe. Not in Casper, no, but in spirits watching over us, playing with us, crossing into our plane. And so does my heroine in Passionate Destiny—after her own experiences in an old Virginia house she’s inherited. She senses, then feels, and finally sees Aaron, a Confederate soldier, both in the house and outdoors. Then she meets Aaron Belton, the contractor who she hires to bring the house into the 21 st century while maintaining its 19 th century character. She doesn’t know the relationship between the two Aarons, but she knows there’s something…something not quite right. With one, she shares a house. With the other she shares a destiny—a very passionate destiny.

Book: Passionate Destiny
Author: Dee S. Knight
Publisher: Nomad Authors Publishing
Release date: March 8, 2020
Buy link: https://tinyurl.com/sxy5sfh
Price: $2.99 (for eBook), $9.99 (for paperback) or KU
Word count: 85,960
Pages: 215

When Margaret Amis-Hollings inherits an old house in Virginia, she never suspects she’d be sharing it with a very loving ghost. Or that her interest would be divided between her spirit lover and the very live man who’s renovating the place. Suddenly her life is intertwined with a soldier from a previous century and with his descendant, Aaron, who has a secret concerning her home. Is it coincidence or the power
of a past love that makes her want to share her life—as well as her destiny—with Aaron?

Excerpt:
He straightened, standing close to the car and effectively blocking her exit. Still looking out the window, Margaret found herself facing his belt buckle, peeking out between the edges of the wool vest he wore.
Involuntarily, she moved her eyes a little lower and saw a bulge in his jeans that startled her with its size. She gulped, feeling herself blush, but couldn’t seem to force her eyes away.

Fantasies assailed her. Was his member really as large as it seemed, based on that bulge? She stopped herself. Member? That was no “member”; that was a cock, plain and simple. And a big one, too. God, how would it be to touch it through his rough jeans? Her hand lifted off her lap before she forced it back. Did he know how to use it? She’d bet he did. Was he married?

Wait a minute, married? Who cared? This was a fantasy.

Her panties were wet, the results of her wayward thoughts, and her nipples scraped hard against her blouse. She licked her lips, imagining his jeans pulled down around his thighs, his huge cock positioned right at her point of entry. He fit perfectly between her legs, as he slid through the moisture that betrayed her seeming disinterest, pushing into her…

She suddenly became aware that he had bent down and was speaking. Mentally shaking herself, she tried to concentrate on his words, at the same time hoping he didn’t have mind reading capabilities.

“…road will narrow, and twist around. County maintenance ends after about a mile, so it deteriorates a little, but you shouldn’t have any trouble in this.” He patted the roof of the Ford sedan she had borrowed from her mother in exchange for her Z4 roadster. “The Rawling place is just about the only thing back that way. You’ll see the sign for River Peace. Go right up the drive and the house is at the top of the rise. Got it?”

“Yes,” she said tersely. She realized she sounded a bit testy, finding it difficult to focus on the directions he had just given rather than the bulge in his jeans. “Sounds simple enough. Uh… Go up the road a couple of miles until it deteriorates and then turn right up the drive.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “No, turn around and go back toward town. Take the first road to the right. That’s Route 803. From there it’s a couple of miles and you turn right up the drive. Do you need me to lead you?”

“There’s no need to get male about this. Sounds like there are only two turns. I think I can handle that all right, thank you.”

Snap! She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the pump shutting off, then dug out her wallet as he put the pump handle back in place and screwed the gas cap on. He spoke and waved to the man behind her, who waved back before getting in his car.

“It’s forty-one dollars,” he told her when he came back to her window again. “They’ll take it inside.”

She thrust two twenty-dollar bills and a five at him. “Here. Why do I have to go inside?” He looked at the bills in her hand and laughter lit his eyes. “Why indeed?” he murmured. He took the money and stood to leave.

“Wait!” Margaret called out. “Do you know a man named”—she picked up Ron Gibson’s letter from the seat beside her—”Aaron Belton? He’s supposed to be some sort of carpenter or construction guy or something. In a burg this size I figured everyone would know everyone else.”

Leaning down again, he smiled, and Margaret thought her heart would stop. “Yeah, I know him. What do you want with him?”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re awfully inquisitive. I have business with him, and that’s all you need to know. Do you have any idea how I can reach him? Is he known for good work?”

“Best work you’ll find in four counties. Can’t vouch for anything beyond that. He’s in the phone book.” With that, he straightened and strode off.

She watched him go into the building, then a few minutes later come out and climb in the pickup across the island from her. Her mouth dropped open as he started the engine. When she hit her horn, he merely stuck his arm out the window, waved four dollar bills in the air, and pulled away.

About Dee:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her
characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they
had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and
Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors
website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and
husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your
comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Deadly secrets haunt this House

Lyndi welcomes her adventurous friend  Julie Howard today, with her new release House of Seven Spirits! HouseofSevenSpirits_w14284_ib

About the story:

Some secrets are deadly, and ghost-blogger Jillian Winchester and her photographer boyfriend discover it’s true when they set out to investigate an Australian family who disappeared without a trace in the 1880s.

An abandoned sheep station rumored to be haunted by the long-dead Kinsley family is one challenge. The other is the beautiful but deadly Outback.

As Jillian probes deeper into the mystery, one thing becomes clear: She might not make it out of this quest alive.

 

 

Excerpt:

“Don’t go up there,” Mason warned. “The wood’s apt to be rotted in places. The floor may not be safe.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and hesitated. Her California beach home was eight thousand miles away—a fifteen-hour flight plus a day’s drive along bumpy bleak roads. She hadn’t come this far to only examine the structure’s exterior. Her work required total immersion.

She put a foot on the first step and tested it with her weight. Mason strode around the car and halted just below the porch with arms crossed. “Jillian.”

The last thing she needed was someone hovering, directing her on what she could and couldn’t do. When she worked, the “real” world faded in importance. His uneasy energy interrupted her focus. “I’m fine.”

The stair was solid, at least. Not even a creak greeted her as she advanced onto the veranda. He cleared his throat as she took another step, but said nothing.

Despite the heat, a sudden chill rippled up her bare arms, sending prickles all the way to her neck. For a split second, her world tilted and her senses were overwhelmed. The musty odor of freshly shorn sheep wool, clothes flapping on a line, young voices chattering, the sharp tang of blood. Just as quick, the images dissolved and all was still, dry and lifeless once more. She let go of a deep breath, and a feeling of exhilaration swept through her.

Someone’s here.

****

Bio:

juliehowardpixJulie Howard is the author of the Wild Crime and Spirited Quest series. She is a former journalist and editor who has covered topics ranging from crime to cowboy poetry. Now she edits an online anthology, Potato Soup Journal.

Author Links:

Website: http://juliemhoward.com

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/juliemhowardauthor

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07D6CS4NQ

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/julie-howard?list=author_books

Twitter: https://twitter.com/_JulieMHoward

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18116047.Julie_Howard

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/ubgz73p

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/house-of-seven-spirits/id1497768327

Nook: https://bit.ly/39kJRgS

Minzie by L. Horton

I recently had the pleasure of talking to a group of teens at Arms Around ASD, a local office that supports people on the spectrum and their families, and we explored the basics of writing, including character traits and details. One young man was very excited about his piece, and I offered to share it with the world, in keeping with the season. Enjoy!

 

Image result for free clip art witchThere once lived a wicked witch who did not like the heroes of the pacific side of the world. So she casted a spell on a jack o lantern who she named Minzie and brought it to life. It grew a body of vines and was ready to kill what was on schedule. There was Luke, a Rich Pagan Wizard from Saipan who has triplets. There was Logan, a Buddhist from Guam, who helps people and hunts pigs to make food for the community, with his rich wife Lauren. There was Marky, an Orthodox Jewish detective from Christmas Island and Leia a Buddhist from Japan who knows ninjitsu. Moving on, we are starting with Luke in this story.

 

Part 1. Luke the Wizard

Luke was potty training his triplets when suddenly his wife Helena pops in.

“Luke, you are the hero of Saipan. Can’t you grant me good luck at work today because I’m afraid I’m going to fail at a project going on and get fired.”

“Aw sweetheart  I can grant you that.”

“Thanks so much, Luke!” said Helena.

When potty training was done, he took his triplets outside to play and then three hours later it was time for a bath and then bedtime. When itImage result for free clip art Pumpkinhead was bedtime he went to sit at the bar in his mansion and that’s when Minzie came and killed him by sending wines through his chest and his abdomen and them Minzie ate his head and heart.

The very next day, Helena came in and she screamed loudly and held a funeral with the triplets and his family.

Part 2. Marky the Inspector

Marky was at somebody’s house dealing with a missing puppy, which he found an hour later. After that he went home and watched Benny Hill. During Benny Hill he received a call from his childhood friend Logan on Guam.

“Hey Marky! How does work go for you on Christmas Island>?” said Logan.

“It goes fine. I’m a detective and found a puppy today.”

“Neat!” said Logan.

Then suddenly Minzie appeared outside Marky’s house. Marky said, “Hang on I gotta go.”

So he walked outside and got his head eaten by Minzie.

Part 3. Leia the Ninja

directrix clipart ninja #74261093 clip art library downloadLeia was at her dojo training with her sensei Kyubo and she went home with her stepdad. Her stepdad even told her that she is the hero of Japan, but there is a monster on the loose so she needs to stay inside where it is safe.

Minzie soon appeared and vined out her heart and ate it.

There was later a funeral at a crematorium.

 

Part 4. Logan the pig hunter

Logan and his rich wife Lauren were out hunting pigs for bacon on Guam, to have a meat sale to benefit the community.Image result for free clip art explosion

But when Minzie arrived to get him, the military had tracked the pumpkin, and had it surrounded and blew up Minzie with a missile. The danger was over but everyone who died was always remembered as a hero.

Eternal life as a zombie–is it for you?

Welcome author Katherine Wynter to the blog, with her new book, BLACKOUT!

zombieBlurb:

Zombies walk among us. Look like us. Talk like us.
When Chicago scientist Bryan Southworth found the secret to eternal life through nanocell technology, he didn’t know it’d come with a cost: death. The process of Reanimation requires physical death for bio-synthetic cellular replication to take hold, but maintaining eternal life depends on timely injections of fresh cells to replace those used. Should a patient’s supply run too low, the computer chip installed at the base of the neck deactivates consciousness, freeing up the body to seek out new cells any way necessary.
Mikal Edmonds is your average zombie – or Reanimated Citizen as they prefer to be called – on his first date in over a decade when an attack by the religious terrorist group calling themselves the Naturalists changes everything. Now the target of a zealot’s fervor, Mikal’s willpower is tested as he confronts his past and tries to avoid the one thing he fears above all else: a blackout.

Excerpt:

Chapter One
He scanned the darkened bar, his gaze passing quickly over worn tables and chairs, couples whispering in darkened booths, drunks playing virtual pool with neon balls projected on an old-style wooden table, and the ever present football game covering the back wall with brightly colored violence but no sound. Life had changed dramatically over the many years since his Reanimation, but a bar was still a bar and people were still people. Under normal circumstances neither interested him.

Few things did.

Blind date. Never should have let them talk me into it.

He spotted her sitting at the bar – right where Jose had promised she’d be – and froze. That hair, strawberry blonde, reached in waves past her shoulders, and her slender silhouette seemed as familiar to him as his own breath. Emily? In his mind, he was sitting at a different bar, and her blue eyes sparkled at a joke of his, something about politics though he didn’t remember what exactly. They had been happy then. Before. No. If Emily were still alive, she’d have to be over a hundred years old; this wasn’t Emily. She had moved on. Probably remarried with children and grandchildren by now.

He shook his head, banishing the unwanted memories, and slid onto an empty bar stool next to the girl who could not possibly be his former wife. How old could this new girl be, anyway? Early twenties? Twenty-five, tops. It didn’t matter. With the potential for surgery and Reanimation, apparent age wasn’t an accurate guide anymore.

She wore a Parisian-Oriental fusion dress which hugged her just enough to be alluring yet showed no more than a small taste of ivory skin and knee-high black leather boots. She was attractive, he was forced to admit. Especially with those green eyes. Green, not blue, he reminded himself. Emily’s eyes had been blue.

“Mikal, I presume,” she took a delicate sip of her pink cocktail then pressed a series of buttons on the touch screen built into the surface of the bar. The noise level faded to a hum as the environmental sensors kicked in, shielding them from their surroundings. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. He could have changed it back, but explaining why might be awkward. “I expected you to be…older.”

He grunted and leaned away. Even with six inches of space separating them, the heat of her body warmed the chill that never left his skin. “I am older.”

A pink flush spread across her cheeks to the tips of her ears as she looked away.

The gesture seemed quaintly sweet. Almost antiquated. Maybe the date hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

He sat up a little straighter and tapped the touchscreen twice. “Scotch on the rocks,” he said when the bartender appeared inside the controlled environment. Mikal pricked his finger on the scanner set into the bar and opened his tab. As the drink was prepared, the computer system scanned his manufactured genetic code and registered the purchase to his company account. A yellow light flashed on the scanner, completing the transaction.

“Fucking zombie freaks,” the balding bartender muttered but he still set the scotch down before he disappeared into the hazy background.

“I’m…I’m Rose,” she extended her hand, which he took, her fingers like feathers, steel feathers, against his clammy grip ”It’s such a pleasure to meet you, you have no idea.”

“Same here.” He tried to smile, curling his lips up and baring his teeth. Rose didn’t run, so it probably worked.
He took a long pull of the scotch, savoring the line of fire that trailed down his throat and settled in his stomach. A wave of lightheadedness moved through him, relaxing his muscles and bringing a small sigh to his lips as he settled onto the stool. The sensation faded quickly, however, as the tension returned in a rush. Stuck sober just when I need help the most. Not bothering to lower the controls this time, Mikal gestured for another round and waited for it to appear.

She arched one eyebrow.

Shit. I need to say something.

“Have you been waiting long?” Mikal asked, his stomach knotting as soon as the words passed his throat. What a stupid question to ask. He ran his hand awkwardly through his hair.

“No, not long.” She lifted her glass slightly: “This is my first.” The silken material of her dress parted briefly when she uncrossed and then re-crossed her legs.

He swallowed, hard. The movement had bared her smooth, defined legs along the line of the slit, exposing a tantalizing expanse of thigh for the briefest of moments. He ran his hand though his hair again. “Can I get you another?”

She laughed, a sound like the ringing of small bells, and tossed back the rest of her drink. “I’d like that.”

Mikal signaled for the bartender again, and the conversation stalled while they waited for the drinks to appear. He tried to find something appropriate or suave or at least inoffensive to say, but the words just wouldn’t form in his head much less make their way past his lips. What do girls in this decade like? The only ones he saw were usually naked and dancing on a table at the club where he worked. Do I talk about the weather? Politics? Shopping? Please not shopping.

The empty glasses disappeared and a moment later there were two fresh drinks on the bar next to them. Rose picked up the glass, wrapping her slender fingers around the stem, and sipped. “So, Mikal, my friend tells me that you work at NightWatch. How’s that?”

So it was work then. He shrugged, relieved to be on safe ground. “It’s a job. Had worse – not many people want to employ some like me.”

“You mean a zombie?”

“I used to hate that word but anymore…I guess I’m getting more tolerant as I age.”

Her eyes lit up. “You don’t look a day over thirty-two.”

“Pretty spry for the oldest man alive, huh. Maybe next time I’ll bring a cane.”

She laid a hand gently on his wrist. “Next time?”

Warmth flooded through his hand. Life. She hummed with it, vibrated joy and youth and everything he’d missed by hiding himself away the past few decades. Mikal didn’t move away from her touch. “I’m boring and old. Tell me about yourself. Do you have a job?”

Small lines tightened around the corners of her eyes, only to vanish a moment later. The change was so brief he almost missed it.

“Not right now. The economy, you know. I studied cellular bionics at the university before I had to drop out. Now, without a degree, there aren’t many options for a girl like me.”

“A girl like you?” What was he missing? He couldn’t imagine her having trouble finding work. Problem was, the more desperate people became the more depraved their tastes. He studied the angles of her face again. Had he seen her at NightWatch? He clenched and unclenched his fist. She deserved better than that.

She sipped her cocktail and shrugged delicately.

Can I tell her she’s too beautiful to have trouble finding work? Would she think it flattering or creepy this early in the evening? Girls liked compliments. That couldn’t have changed. Mikal opened his mouth to speak.
That’s when he heard it.

A sound, nothing more than a slight ringing, something that shouldn’t have been able to get through the environmental sensors, pulled his attention. First one and then another shadow flitted across the blurred edges of his vision.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, but he gestured for her to be quiet.

The time for civility had ended. No one should have been that close besides the bartender, and they had already received their drinks.

Mikal tapped the touchpad twice; the environmental controls lowered in response. What he saw didn’t make sense. Half of the bar’s hundred-odd patrons drank contentedly, oblivious to their surroundings.

The other half ran for their lives.

One woman tripped in the mad rush for the front doors, knocking over a chair on her way down as a younger man stepped on her back, using her to vault himself up and over her. Three guys in football jerseys each grabbed one of the antique wooden cue sticks off the wall and used it to shove an older man aside, sending pale ale flying up into the air and startling a couple out of their environmental sensors.

A girl screamed.

A lone man with sunken, bloodshot eyes, loomed in the center of the bar, his balding head glistening from sweat. The jacket of his camo-green duster parted momentarily as he raised his arm, revealing a series of clear tubes filled with a greenish liquid strapped to his chest. Thin wires connected the tops of the tubes.
His left hand rested on what had to be a trigger.

“…deserve to die. You are abominations of existence, a blight on the sight of the God who had given you breath and life. Death is sacred and pure, feared only by those certain of their own damnation. Prepare to face His judgment, monsters, and know the wrath of God!”

Instinct took over. Mikal stood, hooked Rose around the waist, and pulled her over the bar with him.

I’m going to die. His shoulders slammed into the hard concrete floor as shattered glass fell around him like rain. He covered her with his body. Maybe this death will be the last.

The world exploded around them.

Bio:

katherineKatherine Wynter is a fantasy/horror/steampunk author of novels and short stories. Her debut novel Blackout is being rereleased by Under the Moon, an imprint of Final Sword Productions, in April 2014. Her second novel, Reaper Legacy, is due out later this year.
Katherine fell in love with the horror and fantasy genres at a young age, hiding in libraries whenever she had the chance and reading till they made her leave – usually by throwing her book out the door so she was forced to follow. When she was old enough for an allowance, she spent it exclusively at bookstores and began building her own library which has grown and been donated only to grow again like a bookish vestigial tail. Although she once planned a career in genetic engineering so she could create her own time traveling dragon, she abandoned this profession when it became clear that sometimes the best science lives only in the imagination of readers. (Okay, her friends pointing out that said dragon, should she create it, would probably just end up having her for lunch instead of letting her ride its back may have also influenced that decision.)
On a less crunchy note, Katherine lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her husband and three insane cats of doom and destruction. She’s an avid reader, hiker, and world traveler. Nothing makes her day more than taking off for somewhere new and getting to experience different cultures and ways of life (probably why she spent two years with the Peace Corps serving in Kazakhstan).
She’s always happy to answer questions or hear from readers. You can email her at katherine@katherinewynter.com or visit her website http://www.katherinewynter.com

Amazon Book Link: http://www.amazon.com/Blackout-Katherine-Wynter-ebook/dp/B00JWR2K8M/ref=la_B00JX6YW6K_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1398394128&sr=1-1

Price: $1.50

Vampires come in many flavors–have you found this one?

LoveMeKissMeKillMe_Final_small2As part of Melissa Snark’s Halloween blog roundup, I’ve contributed a piece on psychic vampires, and she’ll feature a review of LOVE ME, KISS ME, KILL ME later in the week. Have you ever noticed that just being in the presence of some people leaves you feeling like a wring-out dishcloth? Perhaps you’ve encountered a psychic vampire.

Please stop by and learn how to protect yourself from people who might suck your energy dry– we need all the life force we can get!

 

The devil you know…

THE REVELATIONS OF PRESTON BLACK BY JASON JACK MILLER

Coming June 2013 from Raw Dog Screaming Press

Cover Art by Brad Vetter

Preston and Katy face a new darkness….

Sometimes a battle between good and evil doesn’t look much like the ones they show in movies. The good guys don’t always wear white, and they don’t always walk away with the win.

And sometimes you’re better off with the devil you know.

The last time Preston went down to the crossroads, his best friend died and he nearly lost his brother. But Old Scratch doesn’t take kindly to fools, especially not those who come knocking at his front door. And before all is said and done, he’s going to teach Preston a thing or two about what it really means to sacrifice.

LINKS:
Read the first 100 pages of The Revelations of Preston Black – http://jasonjackmiller.blogspot.com/p/the-revelations-of-preston-black.html

Pre-order The Revelations of Preston Black at Raw Dog Screaming Press – http://www.rawdogscreaming.com/books/the-revelations-of-preston-black.html

Escape into Fantasyland!

Escape into Fantasyland (pun intended)

By Beth Ann Masarik

Thank you for having me on the blog today! I was asked to write about fantasy as an escape for readers, which is how I came up with the title .

beth author photoI don’t know about you guys, but whenever I want to escape reality, I usually pick up a book that has some kind of fantasy in it.  I don’t know why, I guess because it’s all that magic and make-believe stuff that gets put in it that draws me in.  I love the flexibility that fantasy has with world building, as opposed to mainstream genres.  With fantasy, the possibilities are endless.

I’ve loved fantasy ever since I was introduced to the Harry Potter books, which I think is what really sparked my interest in writing.  Oh, I was writing long before I read them, but that was what set it in stone for me.  I remember saying, “I want to be a best seller like JK Rowling.” Well, that hasn’t happened yet, but if everyone goes out and buys my books and short stories, that might actually happen *wink wink*.

So for me, the appeal of fantasy comes with sometimes just wanting to escape reality, and it’s just a lot of fun to write and role play in.

twau official bannerAbout The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness (the full length novel)

Hades is hell-bent on taking over the world, but in order to do so, he has to remove his nemesis, Gaia from power.  But one thing stands in the way and she goes by the name of Selene.

Cue Damien, son of Hades and Persephone.  He happens to be in love with Selene, and will stop at nothing to make sure Princeofdarknessfinal coverhat she is safe even though their love is forbidden.  Furious with his son’s treachery, Hades tricks Damien into killing the only woman that he has ever loved.  He does so by telling Damien that he will spend the rest of his eternal life in the Fields of Asphodel if he does not prove his loyalty.  Torn between his un-beating heart and his family, Damien does the only thing a true demon prince knows how: killing those closest to him.

Will Damien follow through with his father’s evil scheme?  Or will he be banished to the Fields of Asphodel for his treachery?

 

About the short stories:

The short stories are meant to get your feet wet and ready for the re-debut of the upcoming saga titled The World Among Us.  The World Among Us was originally released in 2011 with Otherworld Publications.  Unfortunately, Otherworld closed its doors last year, and Beth had to find a new publisher.  Fortunately, she was offered a contract with Hydra Publications, and the titles that were released with Otherworld have been/are being revised and revamped and re-released!

Regretsmoon (1)About Murderous Regrets (A T.W.A.U. prequel #1):

Leon Greene is accused of murdering his best friend, Jason Aysel, and the world wants to know if he really did it.  Cue Elise Stevenson, the top news reporter for the Daily Gazette who gets the scoop.  Will Leon tell her the truth and his motives behind the murder?

**This is a short story based off the novel, The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness. This was originally published by Otherworld Publications in 2011 and in the Augnowrimo anthology.  It has been edited and revised and now published by Hydra publications.

 

About Hell Bound (a T.W.A.U. prequel #2)

After impressing her boss with her interview with werewolf, Leon Greene, Elise is Hell Bound to an interview with the Lord HellsbounDof the Underworld himself.  Mr. Murphy wants her to find the dirty scoop on Hades himself, and foil his plot to take over the world.  Will she survive the clutches of Hell?

*this is a short story based off the soon to be released novel, The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness.  Hell Bound has never been released!

About Hell’s Captive

As if interviewing Hades himself wasn’t enough, Elise gets sucked into doing an interview with his son, Prince Damien.  It turns out that the Prince of Darkness has a few tricks up his sleeve himself, and is head over heels for the girl he murdered.  Will Elise uncover the Prince of Darkness’s deepest, darkest secrets?

HCaptive*this is a short story based off the soon to be released novel, The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness.  This is a never before seen short story.

About Moon Spirit

Raul Blackoak’s world is tossed upside down one evening when he stumbles upon a damsel in distress.  What he wasn’t expecting was that his life would be changed forever by her.  Because he risks his own life to save her, he is caught between two worlds; the world to which he belongs, and the human world.  Will he be able to balance being in both worlds?  MoonOr will he have to give up one to be happily ever after in the other?

***this is the revised and edited edition. Moon Spirit was originally published by Otherworld Publications in 2011, and is now represented by Hydra Publications.

About Beth Ann Masarik

Beth Ann Masarik is a Young Adult author and writer, indie publisher, and youth advocate. She writes Young Adult fantasy and urban fantasy novels that are mostly about forbidden romance and have some sort of magical creatures in them. Her debut novel, The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness was first published with Otherworld Publications. Unfortunately, OWP closed on December 31, 2012, and the book is no longer available. However, she has signed with Hydra Publications, and it will be released sometime in 2013.  You can visit her author website at www.bethannmasarik.com and the series website at http://www.theworldamongussaga.com for more details on my publishing adventures.

As a youth advocate, she, along with her new husband, is one of the adult coordinators of the Our Lady of Fatima youth group that is supported by the current pastor and the parents of the kids in the group.

In addition to writing, she also publishes a bi-monthly e-zine called Literary Lunes Magazine. It is offered as a free black and white e-copy and also offers a low-cost full colored paperback copy of each issue.  For more information, please visit the magazine website at www.literarylunespublications.com  

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